He Who Waits Behind the Wall
by UprootedKodama
Summary: Re-written. I gave it more length and detail, as well as fixed some of the grammatical errors. Basically the same as the previous version, just better. At least I hope. Read please! Review if you want.


**_Author's Note:_** _Heeeey guys! I decided to fix up this one-shot. You know, just tweaking it a little. I might be starting this new Pokemon fic, too, but I definitely plan on updating PMD. _

_**Disclaimer: **As you know, I don't own Grossology. And I don't own Zalgo, although I don't think anyone does._

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"You Heave, You Leave" - chanted over and over again. Lights bright and focused on the happy faces. Laughing and "ooohhhh"-ing all around. This was, in fact, the set of one of sibling's Abby and Ty Archer's favorite gross show. True, they already were with the Bureau of Grossology.

That had perks within itself. But this was over live television! Abby - with her fierce determination on beating Paige - and Ty simply enjoying the all-around sport of the game. They both had Lab Rat to thank. He was the lab technician (okay, not so much) and evidence analyzer for the Bureau. He was also covering for them.

Like the Director would really let them go on a game show! Lab Rat had promised to contact them if any gross situations came up, so they had that going for them. What they didn't have going for them was the fact the T.V. signals and equipment was jamming Ty's Grossometer signal. That meant to connection with Lab Rat.

Ty had just laid one hand on the exit door, Abby right behind him, when a siren blasted their ears and a hulking goon of a stagehand marched up to the teen and pushed him back. "No contestants allowed to leave the set," he snapped. "Hey, I just need to make a call!" Ty protested. "To your mommy, Abby?" a voice chirped behind them. Abby turned and - of all certainly it was Paige - glared.

"What? Can't take the pressure?" "The only I can't take is you, Paige," Abby snarled back. "Whatever. But let me tell you, you're going to be a lot more disappointed when I win the grand prize." With a huff, Abby dragged her brother back to their spots; their commercial break was ending.

As Spew Hurley - the show's host - questioned the two remaining teams, Ty pushed his worries onto his sister - all he got as a response was a harsh snap-back about missing the question. "Sorry," her brother muttered sheepishly. Abby huffed again, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't all that mad much - just this awful tingling in the pit of her stomach. The questions continued, but were few.

It was time to move on to the third round. Commercial break was aired, and the stagehands got to work. The commercial break was over in minuets, and the show was back on. The host explained the object of the third round to the T.V viewers, and the feeling in Abby's stomach was getting worse. It felt like she'd swallowed a bowl of tar or oil.

She turned away from the cameras, placing a hand against the wall of the artificial stomach for support, and coughed. Black liquid splattered onto the ground. She stared at it, perturbed and slightly frightened, but she didn't get a chance to examine it. The first "question" for the round was put in motion, and Abby dived under the spray of mulched food.

Covered it the glop, she wiped some off her face and cried "Pea soup!" "Correct! Points to the Grossologist!" was the verdict. The teen - with a wide smile on her face - gave a small victory cheer. It was dampened when Ty's hand clamped onto her shoulder. "Abby! He called you a Grossologist! How did he know that?" he pointed out heatedly.

Abby was struck with brief concern, but before she could respond, she started hacking again. She doubled over, hands on her throat, her fingernails digging light red furrows. A sharp pain struck her deep in her chest, and she felt a thick substance welling up her esophagus. The audio track for the fake audience was cut as the black sludge poured from Abby's mouth.

The studio was silent, save the sound the teen hacking and gagging her lungs out. Spraying the gunk out of her mouth with the help of her tongue, she let out a choked, gurgling gasp. Despite every possible natural law, a long, thick spiked tentacle slithered out of her mouth and landed on her pale chin with a wet plop.

She was forced onto her knees as more pain washed over her, and more tentacles unfurled their way out of the girl's throat. She began shaking and wailing, still clawing at her throat, her eyes filling with crimson. The red broke and small trickles of blood started to flow from her eyes, the drops hitting the floor quietly and staining it red. The trickles turned into streams, and the streams into rivers.

There was a cracking noise, Abby's head snapping back so fast that blood droplets pattered onto the floor from her ears. A total of six tentacles now squirmed and pulsed from her mouth, thrashing about and slinging the black liquid with great jerking motions.

Ty, Paige, and Andy openly displayed their fear and revulsion, the chubby boy emptying his own stomach contents onto the floor of the artificial stomach. With her parents, it was even worse. Petunia Archer was screaming and wailing, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. Her husband had a death grip on her arms, his hands cold. He didn't let go, even when he pitched forward and vomited.

At the T.V. studio, a garbled inhuman scream forced its way out of the teen's body, sending chills down the spines of everyone. Blood pooled around Abby's knees, forming an ever-widening puddle on the floor. The black goo seeped from her mouth, trailing down her chin and neck like a fountain. It mixed with the claret on the floor, creating a hideous color.

This was _horrible_, but it paled in comparison to what was later going to happen. Abruptly, the tentacles stopped thrashing, and parted, three on each side of Abby's mouth. Nobody was exactly sure what was going to come, but everyone recoiled when a jet of the sludge spewed from her, leeching into the concrete under the artificial stomach and coating the trembling Ty.

A mixed look of disgust and horror marred his face. He thrashed about, trying to get the goo off him, and then stopped. From the virtual lake of muck a dark figure was emerging, taking shape from the slick oil. A low and warbling voice accompanied the figure. "He comes..." it bubbled. "He Whose Touch Corrupts All... Zalgo..." Spiked tentacles ripped through the skin of the being, and the three teens staggered back.

Mouths opened over the black body - one on the "face" and neck, two on the shoulders, and two on the hips. Blood red tongues flicked in and out between rows of pearly, dagger-sharp fangs. A meaty liquid sound caused everyone in the studio (and those watching on the air, for that matter) to cringe and curl up into themselves.

A seventh mouth split across the thing's middle, unleashing a wickedly long _arm _from a nest of razors, the black appendage digging lion's claws into the soft flooring. Immediately, an ear-splitting shriek deafened everyone.

The thing that was now only Abby's body screamed once more. "Bow to Master!" it screeched. " The Earth shall end! He shall strip this planet, and He shall walk the ruins of this shattered, pitiful world!" Its voice was dead and grating, dripping with venom and hate. Ungodly terror bloomed in the studio, suffocating everyone.

The being's simple presence was enough to work wicked demon magic on the ill-fated mortals. Andy, Paige, and most of the stagehands collapsed to the ground, their flesh peeling from under-developed bones and eyes bursting into fire. Spew Hurley (or rather, _Lance Boil_) was ripped in half, a torrent of blood and black slime flooding the studio. Ty suffered a truly horrid death.

Covered from head to foot in slime, it filled his eyes, constricting his body like steel cables. With blood seeping from every pore, his entire body exploded into a gelatinous tentacled mass. The being's maddening glee and purely evil mirth gleamed from its body, seeping out into the city. It faced the overturned camera - which surprisingly still worked - and all of its mouths smiled simultaneously.

Chuckling thickly, the hand from the seventh mouth reached out and grasped the lens, forcing evil magic through it, and bleeding the slime through every television in the city.

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**He who waits behind the walls, in a room of tortured glass, served by legions forged from the tears of the sleepless dead and clad in armor carved from the suffering of mothers**  
**In His right hand He holds a dead star, and in His left hand He holds the Candle Whose Light Is Shadow**  
**His left hand in stained with the blood of Ahm' Daegar**  
**His six mouths speak in different tongues, and the seventh shall open and sing the Song that ends the Earth**  
**He has already begun**

**To invoke the hive-mind representing chaos.**  
**Invoking the feeling of chaos.**  
**With out order.**  
**The Nezperdian hive-mind of chaos. Zalgo. **  
**He who Waits Behind The Wall.**

**The hive-mind that confounds the living, and perpetuates the torture of the damned. He is inseparable from reality, as he exists beyond the veil...waiting.  
**

**Welcome home...**

**Welcome to Zalgo**

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_Ahhhh, there we go! I wanted to lengthen it some, add some more detail. I am very pleased with this now, and how it turned out. Yeah, I don't have much to say. Review if you like, you don't have to. It would make me happy, thought. :_


End file.
